


Scars

by lyrical_echoes



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Amputee, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Love, Past Child Abuse, Past Violence, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:21:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22514659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyrical_echoes/pseuds/lyrical_echoes
Summary: Padme asks Anakin about the origin of his scars. Anakin only wants to talk about some of them.
Relationships: Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Kudos: 54





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

> I've been watching Clone Wars, which sent me looking for things I remember writing a while ago. Turns out it was 2003. Yup.

“Ani?” she asks, nuzzling against my shoulder, “Are you awake?”   
I turn my head slightly, resting in the soft pillows of her bed, eyes still closed, but I can feel the smile creeping across my face, from the fact that she is behind me, still, and it’s not a dream.   
“Yes.” I shift so that I’m lying on my back.   
She’s got her head resting on her hand in the pillows, dark tousled hair, framing her face in loose curls. Eyes large, looking over at me, “You have scars…” she frowns, chewing on her lip, “all over you…”   
“Not really,” I say.   
“Well, okay, no…” she agrees, rubbing a hand over my stomach, “this seems scar free…”   
“Stop that,” I counter, laughing, “that tickles.”   
“Oh, so the Jedi is ticklish! You do have a weakness!”   
I try to wriggle away from her, putting up my left hand to endeavor a counter-attack. It winds up with her sitting on my torso, looking down at me, both of us out of breath. She spread-eagles her hands around my belly button, and leans down to kiss it. I brush her hair with my one hand, and reach up to kiss her. It lasts a life time and no time at all, and then she lays down on me so her head is on my chest.   
“So, what are they from?” she asks.   
“Hm?” I’m still brushing her hair, away from one ear. That little doubtful voice in the back of my head, wondering what she’s going to think if she turns her head the other way and is face to face with what remains of my right arm.   
She does so, but is focused on my shoulder, brushing the line of almost even marks carefully, gently.   
“The scars…these…they’re not from when Dooku…are they? They’re too high.” she breathes softly, giving me a slight shiver.   
I swallow.   
“I’m sorry…I shouldn’t…”   
“No, no, hey, it’s okay,” I wrap her in a hug, and manage to spring us up, into a sitting position, and hold her tightly, shifting back so that I’m balanced against the head board, “actually that happened before we came back to Coruscant. I was attacked by this…thing…with very sharp teeth and claws while Master Kenobi and I were on Ansion.”   
“What about this?” she tickles me in my side, where there’s a dark mark.   
“That’s a burn from a near miss with a blaster. What about you?”  
“I don’t think I have any scars,” she looks at me, half twisted around from where she’s trying to get behind me on the bed, “that creature on Geonosis he gashed me, yes, but it was healed well…” she wraps her arms around me and slides around behind me, “So, what about this?”   
“Falling down a cliff-side.”   
“Accident prone?”   
“Too impulsive,” I counter.   
She picks up my left arm, and kisses a mark there, “and this?”   
“Too near the wrong end of a tool at Watto’s.”   
Her hands move up my back, kissing and tracing with fine fingers the lines further up my back, “What about these? …They look so measured…”   
I twist around so that I’m facing her, taking her right hand and kissing the palm and the back and sliding towards her, “I don’t want to play this game any more,” I kiss up her arm to her neck. She pushes me away.   
“You don’t slip out of it that easily,” she says, pushing between my neck and my right shoulder to keep me back, I take her hand with my left one, and kiss it, “No!” she laughs, but then looks at me, “I’m serious, Ani, I want to know about you, we spent all yesterday re-hashing my dreadfully boring life before Jedi rescue, it’s your turn. What happened? They’re old scars…”   
I sigh, “They’re from when I was very young.”   
“Well, then how?”   
“When the Hutts owned us…” I feel my voice softening, quiet, almost as if I’m that young again, and Padme’s arms around me tightly, occasionally caressing my head with her hands. I can feel her emotions: concern, love, confusion, still I have to pull every word through the fear that she will change her mind, “I was too young to be of much use at first, a liability, I…”   
“It’s okay,” she says.   
I stop myself from protesting that it’s not, “if my mother messed up on something, forgot a placement, thought of speaking back, or dropped something…they wouldn’t punish her. They would beat me.”   
She rubs the side of her face against mine, murmuring comfort, softly.   
“Or...” which accounts for those scars, “Whip me. Punished her more, I suppose…”   
“No mother wants to see her child in pain,” she says, kissing my ear.   
I lean my head down on her shoulder. I already said too much. I can’t say anything else. She twists the length of braided hair at the nape of my neck and wraps it around her fingers.   
“It’s okay,” she says, softly, “It isn’t—I’m not saying, but telling me. It’s okay.”   
I can’t say anything to that. I don’t trust what my mouth might actually let out.   
“Ani, it really is,” she pulls back so that we look each other in the eyes, and kisses me gently on the forehead, “And none of what happened was your fault or your mothers.” she stops.   
I can’t look at her. I’m sure my face is expressing something given my thoughts are spiraling about the fact that I may have survived but she—she’s…  
...gone now.   
“Ani,” she turns my face back to hers. I try to stop her but that arm doesn’t finish in a hand at the moment and I’m not going to use Force against her. She closes the distance between us as much as she can. I can feel her breasts pressing against my chest, “Don’t go away from me.” She knots her fingers into the hair on the back of my head, “I’m here. I’m with you. Always.”   
I might not say anything else today, but I don’t resist the kiss.


End file.
